Fireworks
by KelliP
Summary: 'He was suddenly struck with the realisation that Katherine Beckett was standing here, right in front of him, wearing nothing but a small, black bikini.' Ah, the events that unfold when the team take a weekend trip to the beach…


**Fireworks**

'_He was suddenly struck with the realisation that Katherine Beckett was standing here, right in front of him, wearing nothing but a small, black bikini.'_ Ah, the events that unfold when the team take a weekend trip to the beach…

* * *

This is probably the worst idea he's ever had.

He'd thought he'd be able to handle it. More than that, actually; he'd thought he'd rather enjoy it. After all, he's pictured this scene a thousand times.

But his imagination had not done her justice, and he's suddenly struck with the realisation that Katherine Beckett is standing here, right in front of him, wearing nothing but a small, black bikini.

Yep, he definitely did _not_ think this idea through.

He thought it would be a fun weekend getaway for them. Not just the two of them, but _all_ of them; the boys, and their women. After all, how often would the entire team get the Fourth of July weekend off?

When you work in homicide? Never. Beckett told him that long ago; that any sort of holiday or celebration was always the worst times of the year.

But by some miracle, they were selected as the lucky team that were rostered off this year. And so he'd suggested everyone join him for the weekend at his house in the Hamptons.

Mostly, he hadn't wanted to spend the holiday alone. Alexis was travelling with friends before College started in the fall, and his mother was God-knows-where doing God-knows what. And somehow, the idea of sitting on his couch at home, alone, downing a bottle of scotch hadn't appealed to him. And, of course, the idea of spending the weekend under the same roof as Beckett didn't hurt.

Which was the reason for his current predicament. It was the reason she was currently standing in front of him, tube of sunscreen in one outstretched hand and hair held up off her shoulder by her other, asking him to rub lotion on her back.

Slowly, he reaches out and takes the sunscreen from her hand, sucking in a deep breath to stop these ridiculous nerves.

But the warm smile she sends him before spinning around does nothing to help calm him. Seriously- was she _trying_ to kill him?

_It's just sunscreen_, he tells himself.

Right. Because she couldn't have asked Lanie to do this for her.

Suddenly, she turns her head and looks at him, raising an eyebrow. "Something wrong?" she asks innocently. Her eyes are wide with concern, but he swears he can see a twinkle of amusement in them.

"Nope," he squeaks. She flashes another dazzling smile at him and spins back around. The moment she's facing away from him, he clenches his jaw with the thought of what he's about to do.

But he doesn't give her another chance to make a fool of him. Instead, he flicks open the catch and pours a generous amount of sunscreen into his palm before quickly reaching for her back.

He almost loses it the moment his hand touches her bare skin. She shivers beneath his touch- _it's just the coolness of the sunscreen_- and he can feel the electricity shooting all the way up his arm.

Slowly, he rubs his hand in circles over her back. He starts with a safe area- between the shoulder blades. But all too soon it's covered in sunscreen.

_Shoulders_. He moves his hand upwards, rolling it over her shoulders and spreading the sunscreen. But then, her shoulders too are finished.

He gulps as his hands slowly slide down her back. He tries to stay to the middle of her back- as if it's really any safer, when its her bare skin- but then his hand travels around to the side, and suddenly it's too close to her bottoms and the cord holding them up. He yanks his hands away suddenly, as if her skin was on fire, and passes her back the sunscreen as he prays his expression is neutral.

"All done," he chokes, and offers her a half smile that she returns enthusiastically.

"Turn around," she says suddenly. He stares vacantly at her, his expression probably one of the dumbest looks he's ever managed. She rolls her eyes at him as if he's missing something obvious and grasps his shoulders in her hands, applying just enough pressure to spin him around.

_Oh_.

If he thought he wasn't ready before, it was nothing compared to this. The feeling of her hands running over his back- sliding up his side, skirting just around to his chest before retreating- is too much for him to handle.

"All done," she whispers in his ear, her body pressed up against his back. He doesn't even give himself the chance to question when that happened.

Instead, he takes a large step away from her, because he needs to get some distance if he has any chance of surviving this weekend and not doing something completely _idiotic_ that he knows he'll regret on Monday.

"Water," he blurts. She frowns, confused, but he's already running towards the surf. Without thinking, he dives below the surface, letting cool ocean bringing him back to reality.

Getting to his feet, he rubs a hand over his face and wipes away the water. Slowly, he pushes his way further out through the current until he's standing waist-deep in the water.

"You know, you're supposed to wait for the sunscreen to absorb before you go swimming," a voice sounds behind him.

He spins around to see her wading slowly into the water (how _did _she get here so quickly?), eyeing him carefully, her fingers skimming lightly across the surface.

"Huh?" he asks intelligently. She laughs.

"If the water washes the sunscreen off and I get burnt, I'm blaming you." She sends him a classic Beckett look, the one that's both I'm-deadly-serious and amused at the same time.

"Why'd you follow me in then?" he questions.

"Can't let you swim alone, now, can I?" She smiles.

He has absolutely nothing to say to that, which makes him ashamed to be a writer. But he has absolutely no idea she's been playing at these last few minutes.

She laughs at him yet _again_. He must have been staring at her too long (as if she can blame him, when she's wearing _that_). But before he can scowl at her and voice a witty comment, he's hit in the face with a splash of water.

His hands fly to his face immediately, swatting at his eyes as he tries to remove the droplets that have attached to his face. He can hear her laughing softly, and just as he brings his hands down and opens his eyes to glare at her, she flicks some more water up at him.

She doesn't hold back her laughter this time. Instead, she lets it out freely.

He's never seen her this open; never seen her be this comfortable with him.

He loves it.

He's all but made the decision to pull her in for a kiss when she tackles him, sending them both flying into the water.

His arms fly out and hit the water with a loud smack as they go down. He tries to fight his way upright, but apparently that feat is a lot harder to manage when there's someone who's refusing to let go of the hold they have on you.

_Oh._ She's still holding onto him, her arms wrapped tightly around his head, fingers splayed across the back of his neck. He almost stops moving at the thought, but realises if he wants to live to enjoy this, he'd better get some air into his lungs.

Without thinking about it, his hands grip her waist, holding her tightly to him as he kicks his feet off the ocean bed and- somehow- manages to lift them out of the water. When he opens his eyes, her face is all too close to his, and the way she's looking up at him is something… else. Her eyes are wide and shining, her mouth curved upwards in a cheeky smile. It's actually rather adorable.

Way too adorable for a tough, independent cop who kicks ass on a regular basis, which leaves him wondering yet again what she's playing at.

Slowly- too slowly- her fingers slide away from his neck and down his arms, only too hook around the crook in his elbow.

"Come on," she says, tugging him gently towards the shore, "We're going to need more lotion."

Great.

* * *

It's dark now, and the group is spread throughout the living room and the adjoining patio.

He's supposed to be listening to whatever Ryan is saying (something about disease… or maybe bees, he's not sure), but he can't shift his attention from _her_.

After they'd reapplied sunscreen earlier- God, he doesn't even want to think about that- she had laid her towel down directly next to his. Not that she ended up using it; instead she lay down on his towel, pressing right up against him as she questioned him about the book he was reading.

And of course, from the moment she'd joined him, any knowledge he had about the book completely escaped his mind. After fumbling over his words (much to her amusement, he was sure), he'd said- for some unbeknownst reason- he hadn't actually started it yet. Which led to his next predicament: Kate leaning over his shoulder as she read from the beginning with him.

Not that he could actually concentrate when she was pressed up against him.

After what felt like an eternity, he'd overhead Jenny mention she was feeling hungry. He shot up, using the excuse of being a good host to try and get some distance and clear his head.

He really shouldn't have been surprised when she followed him back into the house to help start lunch.

And now she's sitting out on the patio with Lanie, their heads huddled close together and their voices low.

He wants to know what they're talking about. Or, more importantly, _whom_ they might be talking about.

Him? He hopes so. As long as it's good.

He forces himself to look back at Ryan and concentrate on what the young detective is saying, but before he knows it, he's glancing over at her again.

And this time, he catches her looking at him. She quickly drops her gaze and picks at an invisible flaw on her pants. She mutters something to Lanie, who then lifts her head, studies him for a moment, and smirks as she replies.

It's dark, but he swears a light blush is rising on her cheeks. It's something he's never seen before, which just adds to her strange behaviour from earlier today.

He doesn't even realise Ryan is trying to grab his attention until he's shoved in the shoulder.

"Sorry?" he asks, raising his eyebrows and trying to look innocent. The detective just shakes his head, making him feel as if the teacher's just busted him passing a note in class.

But before he can apologise, there's a gentle tap on his shoulder. He lifts his head to see Kate standing beside him, looking at him with a gentle expression on her face.

"Take a walk with me?" she asks softly. He nods, and she smiles.

As if he can refuse her.

* * *

He follows her in silence as she leads him down to the beach. He has so many questions, but he presses his lips together, waiting for her to speak first. But she doesn't.

They walk along the sand for a few minutes before she stops suddenly and sits. He's confused at her disappearance beside him at first, looking down at her for an explanation, but she doesn't give one. Instead, she reaches up and takes his hand in hers, tugging it gently until he complies and drops down beside her.

He waits as she collects her thoughts, listening to the soft waves of the ocean. He loves it here. No city noise, no lights shining in your window at three in the morning; nothing but the ocean and the moonlight.

Suddenly, a loud crack sounds, and the sky is lit up.

Fireworks.

"You know, I was going to get some fireworks," he admits, breaking the silence. "But then I realised it probably wouldn't be the smartest idea with three cops hanging around." She laughs.

"I think I've already arrested you enough times," she jokes.

"I can just imagine the look on Gates' face if she found out you'd arrested me for illegally buying fireworks." She laughs louder, and shoves his arms gently, but doesn't let go. Instead, she circles her fingers around it, and leans in a little closer.

"I remember the first time I ever saw fireworks. I was 6, and it was New Years. We were visiting my grandfather's at his beach house down in Florida- Mom, Dad & I. It was so late, and I was so tired, and Mom had tried to put me to bed _hours_ ago. But I kept creeping out of my room, and so Dad persuaded her to let me stay up.

"When the fireworks started… I just remember feeling as if they were the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. They just lit up the sky and the water, and it was so beautiful. But then, suddenly, they were over. And I screamed bloody _murder_, because I wanted to keep watching them…" she laughs. "Mom never let Dad forget it was his fault they had an overly tired six year old screaming over _fireworks_, of all things."

He chuckles at her story, filing it away in his memory for the next Nikki Heat; he's sure he can work it in there somewhere.

"Remind me to give your dad a call when we get back to the city; I want to hear more stories about your childhood."

She clutches his arm a little tighter. "Don't you dare," she threatens.

"All for Nikki, of course," he says, innocently shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh, of course," she repeats sarcastically, and a chuckle rumbles in his chest.

And suddenly, her head is resting against his shoulder. And although he has no idea what's brought out this side in her, he loves it.

Barely a moment passes before she's speaking again, her voice quiet. "Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you please just kiss me already?"

_Oh. _

He smiles, and brings his lips down to meet hers.

If he _has_ to…

* * *

The next morning, they step out of his room to find the other four occupants of the house standing in the hallway, their arms crossed and eyebrows raised knowingly.

"What? Like you guys didn't have sex last night too," was all she says before taking his hand and pulling him away from their prying eyes.

* * *

_I have plenty more one-shot ideas (too many, actually; I keep starting new ones and leaving others half-finished), so if you're interested, subscribe for author alerts =) I promise I'll get around to completing them all and uploading them asap._


End file.
